


a drop of rosewater

by DriftingGlass



Series: The Courier and the Mage [2]
Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Aged-Up Gon Freecs/Killua Zoldyck, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Companion Piece to Wayward Souls, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Just had to, M/M, Sorry For Awkwardness, They're Traveling Together, Wayward Souls Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-10
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-05-04 18:28:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14599071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DriftingGlass/pseuds/DriftingGlass
Summary: Even on days where Killua found himself too lost in his own world, Gon was there to hold him close. Always.





	a drop of rosewater

**Author's Note:**

> There is absolutely no reason for this... I've turned Wayward Souls into a series. And writing these two, and in THIS context... is very, very challenging. I've missed writing them, and gosh, do I love this world. I miss it, dearly. The incorporation of sex and how it would be between them in this universe (and my incredible lack of experience writing sex in general) kind of stalled this process.
> 
> ... anyway. I'm nervous. I hope you enjoy this, regardless. At least a little bit. 
> 
> Takes place a few months after Wayward Souls' conclusion.

“This,” Killua drawled, arms folded and eyes flickering across the broad assortment of herbal flowers and spices strung up into sprigs, “is a scam.”

The elderly man behind the stall blinked, one eye at a time. They were golden, his face leathery and bronze with countless years spent under a summer sun. Cobalt dome rooftops and sanded square buildings framed this inconspicuous alchemical shop with little to the imagination, other than the surprisingly broad selection of cleansing oils and floral remedies.

However, none of them were what Killua was searching for.

“I—no, good sir! This isn’t a scam! Have you seen any finer wares in all of Quorinthe?” 

Killua raised an eyebrow. “Yes. Many, actually. Those,” he pointed to the strung up collection of red and purple lavender stalks, “are probably imported straight from Masadora’s port. Lavender that color can’t obtain that shade under a harsh sun, and this place? It never sees a day without it.” He stroked his chin in mock-thought, shrugging. “And those eggs over there? Those aren’t moonbeam hawk eggs. I’ve ridden one myself, and even a fresh hatchling is big enough to crush your stand just by sitting on it.”

The shopkeeper stammered, long teeth visible with a gaping hole in the middle. He was sweating profusely under his collar, a thin bony frame wrapped in silken turbans. Gold chains and bracelets dangled from his wrists and around his neck, studded with luminous gemstones that gleamed too brightly to be real. The hard, solid cut to the gems were too pristine, too perfect—any rustic stone would cost at least one thousand silver talents to shape into something decent.

“W-well, perhaps I can interest you in other wares?”

“Hm. I was about to, until I realized how ridiculously overpriced this all was.” Killua sighed exasperatedly, fingers brushing down one of many cotton shirts Gon insisted on buying for him. “I mean, I could always relay this information to the local guards. Doubt they’d be too happy to know that the scrolls being purchased by the library are actually overpriced and under handling from a scammer.”

He smirked to himself as the shopkeeper disappeared into the store behind him. Glass display lanterns clinked, and a gentle breeze wafted through the cobbled, sun-warmed streets of Quorinthe.

It was a large port city set on an island reachable by three days’ travel on boat. Gon had insisted that the weather would persist in summertime while they explored and searched every village and city possible with a large foundation for literature and research. And here, in the grandiose, coastal city of Quorinthe, the beauty was both astounding and seemed hardly real to Killua.

Ocean waves rolled onto crystal white sand. Watchtowers stood tall and mighty, as thick as the strongest trees in the darkest corner of the Wilds. Shoppers and sellers alike strolled in furred moccasins and silken layerings—all long, billowing sleeves, sashes and turbans concealing braided hair. Faces worn smooth and darker with sun and age, crinkling laugh lines and crow’s feet around eyes that glimmered with wisdom, from deep russet chocolate to tepid hazel. Jewels and thick strings binding together in necklaces, holding ancient stones that were real and unblemished, not the fake gems that the shopkeeper so shamelessly boasted around his own neck.

Killua inhaled the salty air, hands slipping comfortably into his loose trousers, drawstrings loose and unbothered. He refused to wear a turban as Gon had suggested, and the former courier was probably gambling away their money and food for some nonsensical prize, like a new pet monkey or a useless instrument.

His silver-pale hair and skin shone like a beacon. The many stares that followed him were more of speculation, and didn’t carry the same weight of those who were concerned about his history. About the blood he’d shed in the past, before he had the courage to face the truth.

In a time where he firmly believed that he was destined to die, and not once had it occurred to him that he would ever grow enough to have the chance of falling in love.

“Killua!”

Killua turned, and smiled softly.

Gon was running blindingly, a large smile spread wide and happy over his face. His turban was shoved off his unruly, dark hair, and loosely draped over his muscular frame. Battle-scarred hands were dangling with many gifts and indecipherable items Killua was not able to read, but the excitement in Gon’s eyes never seemed to dwindle as he came over.

“Hi, Gon.” He tilted his head. “Did you… buy the whole marketplace?”

Gon laughed, shaking his head. “No, not exactly. But that’s a fair guess!”

He dropped one of the satchels and pulled out a large shining orb with arrows pointing this way and that. The letters and ticks seemed familiar to Killua, but the green glass was unique and reflective. It shone blue under the sun in one angle, and iridescent emerald green in the next.

“Isn’t it pretty? The lady who sold this to me was so nice. She told me that it’s a lover’s compass. It’s supposed to lead you to your true love.”

Killua snorted. “You believe in that stuff?”

“Hm, not exactly. But it’s nice to think about.” Gon grinned, and the knowing smile he reserved only for Killua met the mage in a full onslaught.

“I…” He spluttered. “Ugh, quit it. We’ve only been here for two days and you’re acting like we’re married. Besides,” he raised a finger and tapped down on the glass. “It’s clearly fake.”

“Eh?” Gon frowned, glaring down at the compass. “How can you tell?”

“Because it’s pointing away from me, idiot.” Killua rolled his eyes, but his grin was fond. “Wow, Gon. Didn’t know you were talking to someone overseas. Pretty sure I’m standing right here, and not far to the east where we can’t even see land at the moment.”

Gon frowned, watching him curiously.

“Killua. You know that I would never do that. Never. You’re the only one for me.”

Killua’s laughter dissolved. “Hey, you know I’m joking. Obviously I know you… that you—”

“Love you.” Gon’s jaw tightened, his cloud of childishness suddenly dissipating. For a second, Killua saw the rumble of Arcane blood that coursed through the former courier’s veins, electric and fiery and alive. “You know that I love you.”

“Right.” Killua’s face burned. “And… the same. Same to you.”

Gon hummed contemplatively. “If you say so, Killua.”

Killua sighed. “Gon, look, I didn’t mean to—”

Gon captured his lips in a brief, tender kiss. As soon as he pulled away, Killua was beet-red, and speechless.

“I…” He glared. “You planned this. You’re a filthy liar.”

Gon’s lips quirked. “Maybe.”

When the shopkeeper finally returned, it only took one exchange with Gon to convince the poor older man to hand over a decent amount of herbs and other alchemical ingredients for a generous discount.

“Do you think we’re getting closer?” Gon asked, threading his fingers through Killua’s.

They were sitting on the edge of one of many overpasses, the white sandstone leading to the beach and the hypnotic trance of the ocean. The breeze was cold and prickled the hairs on Killua’s neck. He thought of Alluka, and wished he knew how close they were.

“I don’t know,” he muttered. “I dream of her, sometimes.”

“Hm.” Gon dipped his head. “Good things, right?”

“In a way.” Killua snorted. “Don’t know if they’re actual dreams or just… reformed memories. They feel pretty real, and then I wake up and it’s all completely different.”

Gon shifted closer to him, his hand stroking Killua’s lower back in absentminded circles. The callouses were comforting, somehow, trailing along smooth and scarred flesh. The patterns soothed him in these hours, when the afternoon attempted to bleed into dusk, where the clouds were thick like plumes of lavender smoke. On other islands and in other cities, the stars never seemed to change, always following them, chasing in tails like comets.

He knew Alluka had to be somewhere, maybe waiting for him. Searching for a reason to believe that he was coming for her. Was she watching the same sky? Counting the same stars?

“We’ll find her, Killua.”

Gon’s voice pulled Killua from his inner world.

“Hate it when you do that,” he whispered, not at all truthful.

“Do what?”

“Respond to me like you know exactly what I’m thinking,” said Killua.

Gon’s hand trembled with contained laughter. Even now, he was such a striking presence, a man of twenty-one years of simultaneous violence and wisdom somehow rolled into a man who boyishly smiled and delighted in the mundane as well as the adventurous.

“I knew how to do that even before I talked to you for the first time, Killua.”

Killua rolled his eyes, but stayed quiet. His ears burned pink.

Silence fell, gliding through the quiet like sunlight filtering through a summer thicket. He was unable to meet Gon’s eyes at first, staring out into the mindless lapping of ocean waves. Thousands of tiny flames blared through open windows, striping the rustic marble red and gold. Birdsong whistled through the growing wind, a soft melody whispering in the small space between Gon and Killua.

“When we were children,” said Killua, “I’d take some of the books that my grandfather would let me keep after our lessons, so that Alluka could read them as well.” He threw his legs out over the lip of the windowsill. “There were a lot of cities like this one in those books. Except there aren’t any dragons or handsome princes.” He snorted. “She loved those, especially. Never understood it, but I guess girls like different things.”

“So she’s a lot like you, then.” Gon’s voice held a smile, content. “Mito used to say the more you dream and talk about a person, the more likely they’ll be thinking of you too. And maybe doing the same thing.”

Killua shrugged, contemplative. “Wouldn’t be surprised if she was.”

Gon’s fingers crawled up his back and rubbed into his shoulder blades. He groaned and tilted his head back, closing his eyes in bliss.

“You’re like a cat,” said Gon, dissolving into a fond, warm laugh. “You used to hate it when I did this.”

“Yeah, because you would try to distract me while we were rowing across a river filled with dangerous serpents and eels, _Courier_.”

“Mm, you haven’t called me that in awhile.”

Killua finally turned to address him, brow pinched in the middle. Thoughtful.

“Doesn’t seem to bother you.”

“Not when it’s you,” said Gon.

Killua sucked in a breath, the strings binding his heart loosening their hold. He was unable to look away from the intensity in Gon’s eyes, from a stare that could turn as hot as molten steel and branded with volcanic embers. When Gon touched him, held him, gazed into his eyes like he was the only person left alive on this earth, he was pulled back from his musings and worries.

“You’re…” Killua’s mouth dried. “Such an idiot.”

Gon’s lips curved in the corner, waning like the sickle of the moon. He retracted his hand, scarred fingers brushing aside the strands of hair around Killua’s ear.

“Probably.” He shrugged. “But you’re the one in love with said idiot, so…”

Killua smacked his arm.

“Ah! Killua!” Gon whined, grasping the offended spot.

“That didn’t hurt in the slightest. I’ve seen you fall off cliffs with barely a scratch on you.”

Killua’s tone was in jest, but his jaw felt heavy.

He both loved and loathed that about Gon. How easily he plunged into danger, to transform himself into a shield of a human being for the sake of himself, and for others. Or at least, the people he cared about. The way the Arcane energies worked, how the legends told of an essence pumping immense natural power through the bloodstream and illuminating the bones and veins like living wires… it instilled something inside him that made his chest constrict and his heart leap.

The many scars lacing Gon’s body were reminiscent of the days where they fled from Illumi.

_That was months ago._

He scolded himself for thinking of it now.

When was the appropriate time to push aside past fears and fully embrace the new? Good and bad occurrences happened no matter the circumstance, and yet, traveling with Gon and dreaming of seeing Alluka again made him believe in all sides of one possibility. The gray bridge between the black and the white, a sea of too many thoughts and decisions he never wanted to make.

Quorinthe was home to an ancient library, home to countless scrolls and textbooks gathered from information said to be lost for eternity. The shelves spiraled towards the top of a dome ceiling with stained glass windows allowing little passage into the outside world. Tall ladders rolled back and forth in circular patterns, over tiles painted and worn with age. Purples, golds, crimsons and rich greens threaded in curtains and the occasional flutter of a floor-length robe or scarf filled the echoing halls. Knowledge was available around every corner, wedged between book spines, underneath and above pages frayed yellow from oily fingers.

At least, this was what Killua imagined the great library to be like.

There, they would continue searching until their legs were aching and weak.

Something soft and warm pressed to his collarbone. The touch sent a wintry shiver through his arm, eliciting the slightest twitch from his hand.

He resisted a moan at Gon’s mouth latching onto his skin, teeth grazing the sensitive flesh.

“Gon, what’re you doing?”

Gon’s response was a harsh nip on his neck. He jolted, breaking away only slightly to glare at the former courier, before the other man trailed his lips up Killua’s neck, teeth finding the curved shell of his ear.

“Helping,” he muttered, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “It’s just us, Killua. We’ll look tomorrow.”

Killua’s heart slowed at this, an embarrassed blush rising like an unleashed geyser.

“Just us,” he said, as if not entirely believing it.

They weren’t being chased.

Not tonight. Soon, they would be, but under this moon, under these stars…

They were alone.

From days he once thought were long gone, he remembered. Shackles clamped firmly around his wrists, holding back the tendrils of dangerous magic coursing through his every vein and thought. The courier, watching him as if he was a puzzle to be solved, transfixed with elements of him that drove any other onlooker into the Wilds and beyond with uncertainty and fear.

And Gon, well.

He was always handsome. Even beautiful.

Gon was a man who shook with boundless energy, with excitement for the impending journeys he promised Killua hours, days, weeks, _months_ ago. The dark green cotton shirt he wore clung to every slope and curve, mapping the planes of muscle that Killua had touched and explored on other nights and early mornings. His smiles radiated happiness and lust in the same span, igniting emotions deep within Killua that he never knew existed. The way he held Killua close and fucked into him as if he was the only person meant to take his heart and soul, never failed to rekindle a scorching fire in Killua’s heart.

Gon’s eyes were bright and filled with expectation, his dark hair recently trimmed shorter and still untamed in its wild, spirited way. The moon splashed a silver glint upon his cheekbone.

Killua’s heart trembled and his lungs filled up, a desperate curl of _want_ burying deep in his core.

“You smell so good, Killua,” Gon whispered, warm breath raising the hairs on Killua’s neck.

Killua pushed Gon away, catching the questioning furrow in the other man’s brow, before pressing their mouths together. Gon moaned under the kiss, quickly pulling Killua closer to him, his chest pressing to Killua’s side against the windowsill. It was dangerous, in a way, to be doing this so close to the edge of this tower where they chose to stay.

Gon tugged on Killua’s bottom lip, his tongue tracing the roof of his mouth. Killua groaned and wrapped his arms around Gon’s shoulders, fingers digging into the thin material.

Gon pulled back with a wet _pop._

Killua blinked. He didn’t notice their change in positions, how his back was pressed to the stone sill, Gon bracketing his arms around him to prevent any fall.

“This okay?”

Killua grinned, a laugh building up in his sternum. Gon smirked against his cheek and peppered kisses along his throat, his Adam’s apple bobbing under the fluttering touch of the other’s lips.

“You always ask that, Courier,” he groaned, hand running along Gon’s back and resting in his thick, salt-strewn hair. “Don’t have to be polite.”

Gon paused at that, as if considering.

Then, with a sudden burst of strength, Killua was pulled from the open ledge, and pushed against the wall. Glass vials fell off the nearby shelves, shattering on the floor. The impact knocked his breath out of him, the room dimly lit in the corner with only a few spare lanterns flickering with the last of their oil.

“Do you know how hard it was,” said Gon, voice ragged like gravel and smoke, “to keep my hands to myself today? When you look like this, and talk like that…”

“You’re easy to please,” said Killua, though with little venom or spark. He gasped, Gon’s teeth sinking into his neck and pulling back, a bruise already swelling purple. Killua snorted. “Always impatient.

“Mm, want everyone to see, to know.”

Killua heard the unspoken words, and relished them.

_You belong to me. I belong to you. Let me show you._

He shivered from head to toe.

Gon always did this, always pulled him into his embrace with sweet and dark words, wrapped in honey and sugar-sweet softness. They felt like secrets, shared in the space between bedsheets and the feel of grass under their bodies. Their first time was under the stars, in an old piece of farmland with one room, right after winter faded for springtime blossoms. Traveling for days on end, with only the goal of finding Alluka in the silver lining of Killua’s determination, they refused to stop and rest until it was necessary.

He remembered how frightened he was, and yet, how adrenaline rushed through him in firecracker waves. He’d seen, and known, and had grown to love Gon so seriously, so intimately, that even the prospect of becoming one felt incomprehensible, until it was finally presented as an option to him.

The fear of being taken and asked to give whatever he could in return, to a man he loved no less, collapsed him into near-tears.

But Gon was there, leading him through it all. Kissing him breathless, sheltering him and both taking and relinquishing control in the moments Killua wanted to remember for years to come.

To have Gon overtake him completely, a creature of possession and shelter, drove him to respond. He wanted to feel every inch of him, to memorize the patterns of Gon’s every heartbeat, every intake of breath, to hold close and remember that only he was given that privilege.

Killua grabbed the back of Gon’s head, and smashed their mouth together. Gon grunted, and immediately reciprocated, pressing his body as close as possible to Killua’s, a knee wedged between his legs. Heat curled low in his stomach, testing the boundaries of what they’d ventured past several times before.

Gon pulled back, grinning.

“You’re eager tonight.”

“Shut up,” said Killua, eyes darting from Gon’s eyes to his lips. Gon’s knee rubbed up his thigh, a shock of movement that brushed aside the fabric of his trousers. He hissed, tilting his head back and gaping at the ceiling. Flickering glass bulbs winked back at him. “If you’re—ah,” he hissed, Gon’s teeth nipping at his earlobe, “if you’re going to tease, at least do something _useful._ ”

Gon smirked against his neck, tongue lapping at the fresh bruises forming marks of possession on the minute flashes of pale skin. He then glanced up, slowly, his steady breathing rushing to a harsh groan. Those bright eyes, heavy and intense with lust and passion, simmered through shades of gold. His finger trailed up Killua’s collar, tugging impatiently at the broken string of buttons woven in his shirt.

Killua swallowed.

“Mm, didn’t I get this for you?” he whispered, his voice a smoky timbre.

“You might’ve,” said Killua. He kept himself from reaching out to touch Gon, reveling in the way Gon ran his eyes over him in fascination, curious for what lied underneath the layers. “Why?”

Gon leaned in, his playful smile detectable in the warm darkness.

“Just wondering what it’ll cost to rip this off you.”

Killua shuddered, recognizing the way Gon licked his lips and teethed his bottom lip. The air felt thick, impossible to breathe in without taking in the presence of the other man, who loomed with stocky muscle and the power of a dozen men rolling through every vein.

“Yeah?” Killua straightened, ready to sprint. “Then do it.”

That was enough for him. Gon pressed himself flush to Killua and hoisted him up. Killua grunted, wrapping his legs around the other man’s waist and driving his nails into Gon’s back. He was left in a hazy thrum with the quick seconds it took for them to migrate from the wall to the bed, Gon’s eager steps and frantic, rough hands grabbing at his clothes snapping them both out of their concentrated reverie.

Killua lifted his arms, blinking as his shirt was easily pulled off and over his shoulders. It tore at the seams, tossed in a crumpled ball in the corner of the room. It dissolved in the shadows, beside the forgotten trail of candles littering the stone shelves and wooden cabinets. Gon’s presence was sturdy and sculpted above him, already discarded of his shirt and pinning him down to the soft, lavender-smelling sheets of their temporary bed.

Gon was smiling, crooked and glowing. Firelight slanted his high cheekbone in a fine plane.

Killua raised his hips, grinding his lower half up to Gon’s and drawing a surprised grunt out of them both. He smirked to himself, laughing at the way Gon easily shook and growled in warning, his hands forming a tighter grip around Killua’s wrists. He wriggled about, his grin widening ever so slightly at the way Gon stared at him, glowering in the comfort of this welcome darkness.

“You keep doing that and I won’t last long.”

“Do what?” Killua glared defiantly into Gon’s eyes, testing those waters as easily as he had many months before. “Come on, _Courier_.” He drew his bottom lip into his mouth, heat pooling low in his stomach at the way Gon breathed in sharply, eyeing the bare expanse of his upper body and trailing down to the drawstrings of his trousers. “I’m being awfully nice, here. And getting impatient—”

“ _Killua_ ,” said Gon. A warning.

Killua loved it when Gon spoke to him like this. It riled up every electric nerve in his body, kept him pliant and warm with desire. He wanted to hear that voice rake up his sides and through his bones like nails on concrete. He wanted Gon to place his hands everywhere, to shield him, to guard him, and make him believe he was worth wanting in a way that could only be expressed through action.

Gon’s body was golden and dark from many years under the sun. Scars mapped over his broad chest, abdominals and shoulders in lines of victory and faded blood. When they were this close—skin to skin, nose to nose, mouths a whisper apart and lips seeking each other in the dark and light—Killua saw, truly _saw_ , every inch of Gon Freecss that he adored and admired.

“Gon,” he whispered, lost in the birthmark imprinted on Gon’s hip, a teasing dip into the waistline of his own pants. “Hey, look at me.”

Gon blinked, locking onto Killua. When their gazes met, the intensity returned, a surge of lust rippling like wildfire and thunder through Killua’s sternum and lungs.

“I want you to have me, completely,” he said, the words trembling on the tip of his tongue. Gon’s eyes widened, his hands sliding from Killua’s wrists, down his chest, to his ribs, and settling on the jutting of his slim hipbones. “Fuck me like it’s the last time.”

_Making love._

What was the difference?

Gon hummed, mockingly considering, a crinkle in the corners of his eyes. And then that arrogant grin returned, all boyish charm and the reckless competitive urges of a young warrior.

“Alright, Killua,” he whispered, a dark promise in the room, “you asked for it.”

Killua barely resisted, his hands sweeping over the planes and angles of Gon’s body as the other man tugged off his pants, strings and buttons snapping under his impatient, shaking fingers. He reached over and greedily pushed down Gon’s trousers as far as he could, eagerly drinking in the image in front of him—all sun-browned skin and rippling cords of muscle. The slap of Gon’s thick, muscular thighs encasing Killua’s hips shocked him, the rubbing of their exposed cocks eliciting a startled moan from his throat.

Gon tested the angle, his former patience replaced with the excitement threading in the air. He rocked his hips against Killua’s, a growl rising in his throat.

Killua grabbed the back of Gon’s hair and smashed their mouths together in a violent, wet kiss. Lips and teeth clashing, his hips reaching up and legs wrapping around Gon’s waist. It was boiling hot under and over his skin, their bodies brushing in bursts of friction.

Gon pulled back, tugging on Killua’s bottom lip before leaning back and sitting up straight. He leaned away from him, the supple bend of his spine a delightful vision for Killua as Gon rummaged on the side of the bed through what he imagined were several pouches dropped on the floor only seconds after entering the bedroom.

He came back, kissing Killua and smirking against his lips.

“ _Gon_ ,” said Killua, an underlying demand in his voice. Flames licked under his skin, demanding to be touched, to be give some form of contact and release.

Gon laughed, a soft sound that rattled Killua’s heart. He grinned up at him, and it was then that Killua caught sight of the familiar dark blue vial held in his hand.

“I’ve got you,” he said, peppering kisses along Killua’s chest, drifting down his toned stomach and resting on the cusp of his thighs, a few inches from his flushed cock. “I’ll take care of you, Killua.”

Killua’s name rolled off his tongue so easily, so simply, as if they were always meant to do this.

_Maybe we were…_

Killua looked away, his legs trembling. He fought the urge to watch Gon’s every action, as the thought alone was distracting enough to pull him into his own daydreams and away from the current moment.

He heard the uncapping of the vial, and the familiar sound of Gon’s fingers slicking through oil. He held his breath, heart slamming into his ribcage, anticipation building high. He gasped, biting his tongue at the feel of Gon pressing further against him, their erections brushing in a tantalizing rhythm. There was impatience there that Killua knew Gon shared—that he was just as eager to be inside him.

Killua burned for Gon. _Ached_ for him. Craved his touch like a man in a desert seeking water.

Gon was silent now, concentrated and lost in a daze that always came about when they were in bed.

Killua rolled up his hips, digging his heels into Gon’s back and drawing him forward. Gon grunted in surprise, hands finding balance beside Killua’s temples. He glanced down at him, eyelashes fluttering.

“Come on, _come on_ ,” he gasped out. Gon shifted, pressing his hips down to meet him and grinding into him, a few raw slaps of their ships echoing in the dark cloak of the room. “Gon, I’m—”

“Right here, okay?” Gon whispered, his mouth at Killua’s ear, breath leaving in harsh, excited pants. “Ready?”

“ _Yes_ , for _gods’ sake,_ ” growled Killua, eyes flashing and eyebrows raised.

Gon chuckled, and it was quickly met with the feeling of an oiled finger pressing into Killua’s entrance. He wriggled, fingernails driving into Gon’s back, seeking purchase in that beautifully sculpted body. He stared at the ceiling, welcomed the intense smell of fresh grass and rosewater emitting from Gon in a natural mist. He clung to the scents of their travels and somehow only wore the best ones—fragrances Killua always associated with the courier and the places he would be.

The second finger was close, but not enough. He wanted to feel all of Gon, to take him in at once even if it would hurt him for days to come.

“Gon, you’re too—ah, too _slow_ ,” he drawled out, drunk on him, on the steady rocking of Gon pumping into him. He gasped as Gon crooked his fingers, hitting a spot inside him that made his toes curl and his voice skitter and leap in his throat.

“You’re talking a lot tonight.” Gon’s voice was dark and heady with lust, and a myriad of other emotions Killua couldn’t detect by sound alone. He felt the presence of Gons’ body over him, his fingers inside him, and every thought was slowly liquefying. “You’re so—gods, Killua, you’re _perfect_.”

_Oh._

Killua stilled, for only a second, letting the compliment sink in and paint his body in a rosy blush.

He lifted his head, meeting Gon’s eyes as he pumped into him. He grinned at the contact, eyelids lowering half-mast, his biceps bulging with the effort of angling himself and keeping Killua’s hips and legs hoisted around him in a protective bind.

Then, his hand found the meaty flesh of Killua’s rear, kneading the muscle and skin. He moaned under the touch, and resisted a whimper when Gon quickly moved from that to his leg. He hiked him up further, body pressing down against him in a shadow hovering above. Killua eagerly reached up for another kiss, catching Gon’s bottom lip and trapping it in his teeth. He licked into his mouth and claimed that spot that he loved so much, drawing out the most earthy and animalistic growls from his partner.

“Killua, fuck, I can’t—,” Gon broke the kiss, features dark and dangerous, “can’t _concentrate_.”

“Then get on with it.” Killua’s face scrubbed blank with determination, with silent beckoning.

Gon’s eyes widened for only a moment, before he was hiking Killua’s knees up to his shoulders, and bringing his cock up to Killua’s entrance.

His confidence instantly sweltered, the sight of Gon moving so quickly shocking him. He fumbled, unable to break away from Gon’s intense gaze, even as he felt the crown of Gon’s cock start to press into him, slick with oil.

“Ah—fuck, Gon, Gon, right there,” he gasped out, back arching at the sudden fullness enveloping him. Gon flexed his hips, mouth open and eyes blown wide with pleasure. He rammed forward, hips flexing onto Killua’s and drawing out a long, startled yelp.

“Hah.” Gon grinned. “Got you.”

And then, he was rocking his hips, quickly finding a rhythm. The naked slap of their hips and sweat-slick bodies echoed around them, erotic and enthralling. Killua gripped harder into Gon’s neck and between his shoulder blades, nails digging crescent moons into his flesh. His entire body shifted in the bedsheets, his cock desperately seeking release as Gon slammed into him mercilessly, over and _over—_

“ _Killua_.”

Gon silenced the screaming in Killua’s mind for him to go faster. His voice found anchor in the bunching sheets, Killua’s name becoming a mantra filled with too many emotions to count.

“Gon, ah—it feels so good, _you_ feel so good—”

“Killua, Killua, you’re amazing, _I love you_ —” Gon gasped out, his voice shaking with the effort of holding them both on a thread.

Killua felt his heart soar at those words, and he wished he could push them down and drink in the pleasure rippling through his entire body and soul in ways he never understood. The incredible strength and power that Gon exuded out in the world, defending those left and right and reserving the most secret confines of his being for Killua and him…

Killua slapped a hand on Gon’s shoulder, stopping his movements.

“Killua?”

Killua grinned, and with a burst of strength, lowered his legs from Gon’s shoulders to his waist, and flipped them over. He panted, laughing at the look of shock smacked on Gon’s face, and the instant smile that broke out in response. Dimples creased his cheeks, his chest rumbling.

Gon watched him, pupils flickering about, mouth opened in awe. His hands traced up and down Killua’s sides, fingers finding each detail as if to memorize every pattern.

“What are you…?”

Killua swooped down to kiss him. “Want to try something.”

And then, with a quick intake of breath, he ground his hips back onto Gon’s cock, and held back a moan at the easy slide of his partner entering inside him once more. He flexed every muscle in his upper body, his legs bracketing Gon’s hips, and he watched as Gon tilted his head back, hands finding anchor in Killua’s arms and bracing with ease.

Gon jerked up his hips, slamming into Killua and drawing out a surprised squeak.

“Ah, Gon!” he sputtered, and broke into a moan at the immense heat building up in his core. The thickness of Gon inside him, spreading him apart, threatening to fill him even more than he was used to, made him want to push further and test another boundary.

“Love you like this,” said Gon, lost in a haze. He was gazing up at him, never quite focused, his body endlessly rutting and shifting upwards to send Killua bracing himself and grinding back, seeking that same coiling heat that controlled them both. “Could fuck you all night just like this, listen to you scream my name loud enough for the entire island to hear.”

“Gon, ah, don’t…” Killua bit his lip, his hand reaching to his own cock. He blinked, quivering; Gon’s hand found his cock and gave it one long, startling stroke. “Gods, oh—fuck! _Gon_ —”

“I’ve got you, Killua,” he said, pumping him quickly. “Right here. With me.”

_With you._

Killua could barely track the racing of his own heart with the more he felt. Every sense became illuminated, delighting at Gon’s words, his presence, his entire _being._

The heat building inside him was unbearable.

“I’m close,” he whispered, a hairsbreadth from collapsing.

Gon gritted his teeth, moving faster, somehow, ramming up quicker into Killua in lightning bursts. He held onto him, kept him grounded to these sheets, this bed, as if they were competing in another game.

“Come for me, Killua.”

“ _Gon_ , ah,” he breathed, “ _Gon_.”

Gon pumped him faster, the strokes merciless and quick, and before long he was flipping their positions, ramming into Killua with a final push that shock-waved his thoughts into oblivion.

Killua arched his back with the tumultuous tremors of release shaking his body. He felt Gon do the same, his muscled form shaking with the only sign of weakness that occurred after their frequent lovemaking.

They lay there for many seconds. Killua stopped counting after five minutes passed, their shared exhaustion sticking harsher than the sweat and other fluids leaving their bodies wet. He shuffled underneath Gon’s weight, wincing at the feel of Gon’s cock still inside him.

“Gon, you have to…” he gritted his teeth. “It kind of hurts.”

Gon blinked, lifting his head from the crook of Killua’s shoulder. Wordlessly, he pressed his lips to the slope of his cheekbone, before slowly, carefully, pulling out.

Killua held back a groan at the loss of contact. He rested his head back against the pillows, the soft midnight air sweeping through the open windowsill and gliding over them in a tender embrace. His hand absentmindedly found Gon’s hair, weaving through thick, coarse strands.

They never usually spoke after sex.

The silence was comforting, and quieting all the same. Killua’s inner thoughts, his worries over Alluka and the inevitable continuation to their journey, started to dissipate. He listened to the gentle whistle of birdsong and fluttering leaves outside, and the gliding rolling of ocean waves onto sandy shores. They echoed and instilled an idea of beauty into him that he wanted to remember when coming to this place.

He hoped the next time they visited, he wouldn’t be worrying as much.

Gon stirred, slipping off of him and resting at his side. His presence was warm and heated, like a living furnace snuggling into the sheets. Killua snorted at his partner barely keeping his eyes open, his jaw opening in a long yawn. He buried his face back into the crook of Killua’s neck, a hum rising and rumbling in the cavernous width of his chest.

“Love you,” he muttered.

Killua rolled his eyes. “You always say that afterwards.”

“I mean it, though.”

Gon brushed a thumb under Killua’s jawline. He pressed his lips to his temple, so soft and wistful Killua almost believed it didn’t happen at all.

But the way Gon encircled an arm around his waist and clung to him, their bodies both drying up with sweat and each other’s release, made Killua want to both laugh and shove him off the bed.

“Gon. We’re disgusting.”

“Sleep now, wash up later…”

Killua sighed, his lips spreading into a feathery smile. He breathed in, and cautiously tested the waters of breaching this new barrier between them. He felt Gon’s hands glide around him even further, fingers connecting and stroking into his skin in sweet circles.

He turned on his side, back pressed flush to Gon. He welcomed the embrace, the sheets and blankets shuffling just enough. He would have to replace them later when Gon was fast asleep, and the only company he would have left would be the moon, city and stars.

Silver-blue light filtered through the windowsill, painting the carpet and bookshelves in a welcome gleam. Book spines from his own satchel were spilled out onto the coffee table, balanced between more glass jars and vials containing substances collected from many different shops and hunting in the Wilds. Soon, they would have to take some of the Quorinthe sand as a keepsake—he’d never seen sand so white and smooth.

“Killua.”

Gon’s voice startled him. He relaxed, sighing into the covers.

How long had he been awake?

“Yeah, Gon?”

“Try to stop thinking for one night.” Warm, soft lips pressed to the nape of Killua’s neck, igniting a trail of goosebumps. “Stay with me. You’re safe.”

“Gon…” Killua sighed, his thoughts racking with worry. “I don’t… I don’t know if I can promise that.”

“Just try.” Gon smiled into his skin, nuzzling. “Love you.”

“You’re such a child,” said Killua, not unkindly. Gon hummed in response, his laughter shaking the both of them. The bed creaked under their weight, and suddenly Killua felt younger—free. “Go to sleep.”

Gon huffed in response, full of far too much amusement for being close to falling asleep only minutes before.

Killua wished he could hide himself better. The way his heart leapt and threatened to burst out of his chest surprised him even now, months into traveling with Gon from one place to another, threaded through each encounter with one journey linking each scene and memory. Gon, the former disguised courier to King Meruem and son of Ging Freecss himself, had a way of speaking to him that rendered him breathless, stolen of any complaint and thought that was determined to control him.

Gods, did he love him.

“Gon,” he whispered, Gon’s touch a heavy brand on his skin, “you really should sleep.”

“Not until you do.”

Killua grinned, but said nothing to this. Gon’s hand wandered every now and then, from soothingly rubbing sore spots on Killua’s stomach, to tracing over his shoulder and finding a spot in the middle of his back. He was focused, fascinated with aspects of Killua that he never understood in return.

The sweet, enticing pull of sleep began to crawl over him. He wanted to fall into it, in Gon’s arms, like many other nights where they found themselves in another place. Always searching. Always.

Eventually, his own eyes began to close. Darkness swarmed his vision, calming. Blissful.

“… Killua, I’ve been wondering something.”

Killua shifted, exhaling, though just barely.

“Hm…?”

“How long do I need to wait before I marry you?”

Killua’s eyes snapped open.

**Author's Note:**

> ... 
> 
> *Sets fire to computer*
> 
> Writing sex is extremely difficult. I kind of hate it, actually, but this was important for them, I think. And, ah, it's still such new territory for me. Was it awful? Passable? Just okay? 
> 
> Please let me know your wonderful thoughts. Thank you so much. I hope you liked it!


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